


Balcony, Stage, Train, and Home

by NephilimEQ



Series: The Missing Scenes [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Complete, F/M, So much angst, but so much them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 13:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NephilimEQ/pseuds/NephilimEQ
Summary: Part II of The Missing Scene Series: Some more missing scenes between Katniss and Haymitch that further explain their dynamic and about how it changed so suddenly.





	Balcony, Stage, Train, and Home

****

** Balcony, Stage, Train, & Home **

“They’re not happy with you,” Haymitch says, his voice low.

“Why? ‘Cause I didn’t die?” I say flippantly, knowing that doing so will cause a reaction from him.  I feel him turn towards me, and I don’t have to look at him to know that he’s upset with my unaffected attitude towards the Games and what I’ve just done.

“Because you showed them up,” he says.

I shift, uncomfortable, and reply in the same attitude, “Well, I’m sorry it didn’t go the way they planned, I’m not very happy with them, either--”

He cuts me off.

“Katniss…”

Damn.  He’s using my first name.  That means he’s serious.  I turn to look at him and I am surprised by the intensity in his gaze.

“This is serious.  Not just for you,” he adds, obviously trying to make me understand the severity of the situation.  “They don’t take these things lightly.”  The way he’s talking, it makes me think that he knows this from experience and I suddenly wonder how he won his games.

We stand there for a long time, simply looking at each other, both of us ignoring the sounds of the crowds down below, celebrating the end of the Games and the unexpected turn of the “star-crossed-lovers” from District 12 both winning the Games.  It makes me sick to my stomach to hear them, and from the look in Haymitch’s eyes, I know that it bothers him as much as it bothers me, but we remain silent, neither of us knowing what else there is to say.

Finally, he puts a hand on my shoulder and says, “I’ve had to suffer the consequences of my thoughtless actions…I don’t want you to have the same fate.”

His hand drops, but I continue to stare at him.

The silence stretches for a long moment, but I finally break it.

“What happened?”

That’s all I ask, but it seems to be the key to making him talk, because he answers and says more than I ever expected him to, opening up to me not as he would to a mere Victor of the Hunger Games, but as if I am a friend.

“I made a choice.  I won the Games…but they didn’t like how I did it.  I didn’t care what they did to me, or so I thought.”  He pauses and looks away from me, staring out over the edge of the balcony.  “When I came back, my family was gone.  My girl…gone.”  He looks back at me.  “They paid for my arrogance and thoughtlessness, and I don’t want the same thing to happen to you,” he adds, giving me a look that makes me think of the day that we trained together.

I nod, slowly, letting him know that I have heard him.

He reaches a hand towards me and does the motion he did when we said our last goodbyes for the Games, his fingers touching my hair, the palm of his hand pressed firmly against my neck.

And the look is still in his eyes.

He leaves the balcony, but I remain, trying to understand what has happened…but then realize that it doesn’t matter.  I have to protect my family and those I love, so I will do what Haymitch asks of me and try my best to keep them safe, no matter how much I simply want to forget everything that has happened.

I will do it to keep them safe.

\--

I am about to go on stage and my nerves are on fire.

I can barely concentrate.

“When they ask, say that you couldn’t help yourself, that you were so _in love_ with this boy that, that the thought of _not_ being with him was _un_ thinkable,” Haymitch says to me, coaching me for the live interview to come.  I look down as he says, “You’d rather _die_ than not be with him, understand?”

I look back up and nod, unable to speak.

He then shows me to the stage and I take comfort from the feel of his hand in the small of my back, putting just enough pressure on it to guide me, but not so much that I would try to resist.

We reach the stage and I freeze.

“Haymitch, I-I can’t do this,” I stutter, unable to take another step, completely paralyzed with fear even though I have done this before.

He leans in, and his lips brush my temple as he mutters softly to me in a voice that only I can hear, “Yes, sweetheart, you can.  You _have_ to do this, remember?  It’s for them, not you…”  He then lets his lips linger a moment longer, almost like a reassurance that I won’t be entirely alone up there, and I nod.  I can feel him smile.  “Good girl,” he says under his breath, and lightly presses his fingertips into my lower back, ushering me forward and I step onto the stage, willing myself to not look back, trusting that he is still there making sure that everything is okay.

As if I can still feel his hand at my back, I know he’s there, watching out for me, and I feel a wave of reassurance come over me as I sit down next to Peeta on the stage.

It’ll be okay.

\--

“So what happens when we get back?” Peeta asks.

“I don’t know.  I guess we try to forget.”

“I don’t want to forget,” he says, I silently hate him for it.  He has very few bad memories of being in the arena.  He never had to kill.  Ever.  I did.  I have very good reasons for wanting to forget, but instead of yelling at him the way I want to, I say nothing, hearing Haymitch’s voice in my head…

_“It’s for them, not you…”_

We arrive back at District 12 and we hold hands and smile for the camera and the crowd, and for the first time in my memory everyone seems happy.

Haymitch is right.  This is for them, not me, but that doesn’t make it any easier.  I have never been a selfless person, but at the same time, I’ve never cared much for myself, either.  I have always felt aimless, without any direction.

At least, for now, I can have a purpose.  Something _outside_ myself to worry about and Haymitch has helped me with that.

When we are shown to the Victor’s Village, I see that my house is next to Haymitch’s, but across from Peeta’s…and I am okay with that.  I will never say it out loud, but after being so close to Peeta for so long, I need the space.

Haymitch comes out of his house obviously drunk, as he arrived ahead of us, and when he sees me, he smirks.

“How’d it go?” he asks as he saunters up to both of us, a bottle of Ripper’s white liquor already in his hand, and I give him a look.

“How do you _think_ it went?”

Peeta looks at me, surprised at my attitude, but I cannot bring myself to care in that moment.  Haymitch is pushing my buttons and he knows it.  He just grins unrepentantly back at me, taking another long drink from the bottle that is already halfway empty, and I snap.

Seething, I pull the bottle from his hand and throw it on the ground, feeling somewhat satisfied when I hear the glass shatter on the broken and overgrown pavement.  Peeta looks at me in shock, as does Prim and my mother, but Haymitch doesn’t seem the least bit bothered, still smirking at me in that arrogant way of his, and that makes me even more angry.  I barely notice when my mother takes Prim into the house and Peeta disappears into his, as I am still burning with rage at the man before me.

“Good to see you too, sweetheart,” he says, turning to leave, but I grab at his shoulder and pull him back around, but forget that he’s already partially drunk, which means his balance is less than reliable, and so he ends up stumbling into me when I do, and I have to put my hands to his chest to keep him from falling over me.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Haymitch?” I hiss through clenched teeth.

His eyes come into focus and his jaw clenches.

“Sorry, sweetheart, what were you expecting?  A warm welcome?  A big hug and kiss hello?”  I stare at him, trying to figure out what he means, and then he says, “This is how it goes.  When the Games start, I go sober.  When they’re done, I go back to drinking.  It’s the only thing that keeps me sane…”

I glare at him.

“But you finally have some Victors, _Haymitch_ ,” I say, spitting out his name like a curse word while at the same time shoving him a step back with my hands that are still on his chest.  “Isn’t that supposed to be a _good_ thing?”

He just smirks at me again, lifting his hands in the air.

“The Games are never a good thing, sweetheart…”

And he turns and stumbles back up the steps into his house, where I am certain he has more liquor.  I say nothing, his words sinking into me more than I expected them to.

He’s right.

And I suddenly feel ashamed for my actions.  No one else had seemed surprised to find Haymitch drinking; not Peeta, not my mother…hell, not even Prim.  They’d all expected it, but for some reason I had expected him to be…different.  Maybe it was because of how he’d acted with me when we were alone.  Training.  On the balcony.  After the Games.

But now we’re back in District 12…and he is back to being the drunk Victor.

I envy him.

He can act this way because it’s expected of him, but I can’t.  If I had been the only one to win the Games, maybe I could do exactly what Haymitch does and no one would bother to say a thing, because that’s just what Victors do…but I’m not any Victor.  I’m the one who was going to die for love, and because I have brought my ‘love’ out of the Games with me, I am supposed to be happy.  To be otherwise would be unthinkable.

I look once more at his house before I go up the steps into my own.

I have to be happy…

…whether I want to or not.

 

 


End file.
